Morbid Motive
by Dorrica
Summary: As they resettle themselves to their lives in prison, Marv questions Harry's true motives for carrying a gun. /ONE-SHOT/


**Title:** Morbid Motive  
**Author:** Dorri J.  
**Summary:** As they resettle themselves to their lives in prison, Marv questions Harry's true motives for carrying a gun. ONE-SHOT  
**Rating:** K+ (for mature discussions)  
**Disclaimer:** "Home Alone" and its characters do not belong to me. I do not make any profit from these writings.

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**Morbid Motive**

Marv turned and settled on his bed. Moments later, he turned again, muttering soft, incoherent complaints under his breath. Harry listened from his bunk below, growing more and more agitated with the constant rustling above him. "Marv, I mean it, settle down or I'll put you out. You're driving me crazy."

"These beds aren't comfortable."

"Well this ain't no Comfort Suites, Marv. We're in prison. Be glad we even have a bed."

There finally came silence to the cell, and Harry thought he'd finally manage to sleep. He shut his eyes and exhaled, feeling emotionally drained. His unbridled fury had long since died away. Now he was just tired and yearning to walk free, though he saw very little chance of that happening. He had been weighing his options ever since he had been thrown in his cell. He could either serve his sentence and go free to live the rest of his life in peace, or he could try and escape now, only to constantly look over his shoulder. Neither option seemed very appealing, and he didn't think the latter would be likely, at any rate, as they had been lucky to escape the first time.

Just as he started to doze off, Harry heard more rustling from above. "Marv, I swear, if you don't settle down and go to sleep, I'll knock you out."

There came a dramatic sigh, followed by more silence. Harry waited for a moment before closing his eyes again. Maybe _this _time he could fall-

"Harry?"

Or not.

"WHAT? For the love of Christ, WHAT?"

"Geez…"

"I'm trying to sleep, Marv! I know it's strange, but some people like to sleep at twelve o' clock at night!"

"I just wanted to ask you something."

"_What?_"

"Well…" Marv began nervously. "I was kind of surprised you got that gun after we broke out."

"And?" the elder man snapped, desperate for a few hours of sleep.

"Well…I just want to know why. That gun got you in a lot of trouble, Harry. Why'd you even want it? You never had a gun before, and we've been doing the job for years. Why then? It was never your style to do a job with a gun. You weren't the armed robbery type. Cat burglar was always your style. You said a gun was beneath you; only the sloppy used a gun. That's what you said, remember?"

There was a pause before Marv heard a disgruntled, "Go to sleep, Marv."

"Tell me why."

"Because it's late."

The younger man rolled his eyes. "I mean the gun, Harry! Why'd you get that gun?"

"What does it matter now? Now shut up."

Marv narrowed his eyes. "Why can't you just tell me? Getting a gun was risky, and we were already in enough trouble as it was. Why'd you get it? I want to know," he pressured sternly.

"Go. To. Sleep," Harry growled.

"Screw sleeping," Marv said with a newfound determination. He started to climb down from his bunk, attempting to kick the blankets away, but they just ended up getting tangled around his legs, and he ended up rolling off the bed with a yelp, hitting the hard, concrete floor with a loud thud. "Ow…" he whimpered. Harry sighed.

"Hey, shut up in there, will ya?" another inmate shouted from the cell beside them.

A hand reached up from below the bed and grabbed the edge of Harry's mattress. Marv managed to pull himself up, locking eyes with Harry, who stared at him with a dissatisfied frown. "Idiot," he mumbled.

"Why'd you buy that gun? Tell me right now," Marv ordered.

"Why can't you just drop it?"

"Because you're not telling me something! Don't lie to me, Harry! I've never kept anything from you!"

"Only because you suck at lying."

Now pushed to his limit, Marv shot his hand out and grabbed Harry's collar, surprising the man. "I'm not fooling around. Tell me. Right now."

Harry glanced down at Marv's hand before grabbing it and shoving it away angrily. "Fine." He stared at him sternly for a moment. "We spent nine months in this hole, Marv, and we were going to be in here a lot longer than that. Just nine months, and I was about ready go out of my mind. Nine months of prison guards abusing their power, nine months of trying to avoid violent scuffles from other inmates, and nine months of trying to avoid things I don't even want to mention. It was miserable, and I wanted out. Escaping came at a price. It meant we were going to be on the run…forever. Always worrying about what tomorrow would bring. Just getting to New York wasn't enough. I don't even know if skipping the country would have been enough.

"I wasn't going back. That was the plan. I had spent nine months in here, and it gave me a clear view of what kind of hell I could have expected for those next six years, and I wasn't going to put up with it."

"So…what was the point of the gun? How does shooting anyone keep you out of prison?"

"I hadn't planned on shooting anyone with it. Not originally."

"Then what was it for? Just for scare?"

Harry sighed, wishing he didn't have to explain. "It was for in case we got caught by the police."

Marv just stared.

"Marv, haven't you ever watched any cops and robbers movies? What does the crook always say?"

Marv shrugged.

"You'll never take me alive."

Silence and confusion followed those words. He still didn't quite understand, and it really didn't surprise Harry that much. How could someone so innocent end up in a place like this?

"So you would…um…they…"

"What it means is it would have come down to suicide by cop, Marv. They see me point a gun at them, and they're going to fire at me."

"WHAT?"

"I didn't want to tell you, all right? But you wouldn't drop it."

"But…But you bought bullets. If…If that was the plan, then…what was the point of the bullets?"

Harry looked away, knowing the answer would only devastate him further. "Just so I'd have a way out…if it all became too much. I didn't know if I'd be able to be handle running for the rest of my life. They were a safety net."

Marv's eyes fell to the floor. He thought for a moment he was going to be sick. "So…So you would have blown your brains out and left me alone?"

Harry winced and turned to face the wall.

"That's…That's not fair, Harry," Marv said softly, his voice becoming weak with grief.

"Look, I'm still here, okay?"

"Yeah, only because that kid got us busted! Geez, maybe I should be thanking him!" The tears came, though Marv barely noticed. He didn't even lift a hand to wipe them away. "You're supposed to be the strong one, Harry! _AND _the smart one!"

"I'm not as strong as you think. You always look on the bright side of everything. You take a negative and turn it into a positive. Even in the worst circumstances, you find ways to deal with it. _That's _strength, Marv. I don't have those abilities. I can't do what you do. I can't hit the curve balls life throws at me. I'm the one who winds up getting hit in the end."

"But…I do all that for _your _sake, Harry. You're always angry about something. You're _never _happy, and it hurts. I try to keep a positive attitude to make you happy. If you were gone, I'd fall apart. I mean…what do _I _have? You're the only person who's been in my life and actually _given _a damn. What am I supposed to do without you? Go back to a family that kicked me out of the house at seventeen? Is this all I'm worth to you? Am I just so worthless to you that you'd kill yourself at the drop of a hat because things aren't so great in your life?" It was all Marv could do to keep his voice from breaking. "Well…you know what, screw you. _Screw_ you."

Marv managed to get to his feet. "Go ahead and feel sorry for yourself, Harry. I'm sick of trying to make you happy. If you don't even have any respect for yourself, then there's not much I can do for you. There's no point in wasting my energy."

Marv climbed back onto his bunk, angrily blinking away his tears. "I'm done," he snapped, collapsing against the mattress. He felt utterly betrayed. Did Harry even care that he had stuck by his side for all these years and supported him even during his worst moments? Exactly what was he to him?

The cell fell into a disturbingly uncomfortable silence. Marv waited. He waited for Harry's response that he was sure would come out in the form of sarcastic comebacks and insults that were so characteristic of the shorter man. Any moment now it would come. Yes, any moment now.

There came a strange sound from below, a sound that wasn't typical of Harry. In fact, he had never heard such a sound from the man. Was that…crying? No, he was imaging things. Harry never cried. He'd sooner throw himself off a building than allow himself to cry, and he'd certainly never cry over a few harsh words. But the alien sound continued, becoming louder and more distinguishable, and there was no way he could ignore it.

Marv immediately sat up and climbed down from his bed, his conscience dishing out loud spouts of disapproval for his harsh words. "Stop," he said quickly, touching his hand to Harry's shaking shoulder. "I'm sorry, okay? Please, just stop."

Harry had immediately calmed the moment he felt Marv's hand on his shoulder. He blinked furiously, embarrassed by his tears. "No…you're right."

"I didn't mean what I said. Just…stop crying, okay? I don't like it."

"It's not just you. I've had a bad week, okay? I think the last time I ever cried was when a big kid took my lunch money. I could care less if it makes me look like a pussy. I just needed to get it out of my system."

Harry let out a shuddering breath as the tears stopped flowing. He knew Marv's guilty gaze was still on him. "I'm okay, Marv," he assured, rolling over to look at his friend. "Right now I'm just at the weakest point of my life, and the really sickening part is I can only blame myself. I need to learn to just suck it up. It's not fair to you. I know I haven't treated you good, but you've still put up with me. If I blew myself away, then it'd be a slap in the face to you."

"So…no more suicidal thoughts?"

The elder man smiled gently. "I'll try my best," he said, reaching up and ruffling Marv's curly hair. "Now go to sleep already."

"Yes, go to sleep already! Both you faggots!" the same irritated inmate shouted.

"Remind me to rip his vocal cords out tomorrow," Harry mumbled as he turned over on his side. Marv continued staring at his backside. Despite his assurance, his unease still lingered. How could he be sure that Harry wouldn't have these thoughts again? "I know you're still there, Marv," Harry sighed. "Go to bed."

But like a rebellious child, Marv didn't budge. He scooted closer to his friend and leaned down to drape his arm over him in a half hug. "Come on, Marv, get off."

"You need it."

Harry didn't argue. He supposed he did need it, and hugs weren't exactly in abundance in a place like this.

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**Author's Note: **This was sort of a spur of the moment thing. As I continue to try and fail at writing a multi-chapter fanfic, I am constantly plagued by ideas for short stories like this. Out of all my stories for this fandom, I'd have to say that this one's my least favorite, but I thought I'd still post it anyway.

Thanks for reading.


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